Beauty and Death
by Drizzt1138
Summary: The story of the 8th annual Hunger Games and my first FanFiction! Please read, rate and review! Contains violence, rated M to be safe; this is a story about the Hunger Games itself, so good people will die!


Beauty and Death

_For Shan'ika, from your Freshie_

_Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum_

_Author's note: this story takes place at the 8__th__ annual Hunger Games. At this point, there was still a large amount of shock towards the idea of children killing each other for sport, especially in the outer districts. "Careers" did not exist yet, and it was harder for tributes to accept their fate. If you, as a reader, find that there is material in this story that __directly__ contradicts material from the original "Hunger Games" books, please inform me so I can amend the error immediately. _

My name is Charles. I live in the fifth district of the country now known as Panem. I have been sentenced to death for a crime I had nothing to do with. "…15…14…13…"

I have arrived with my fellow tributes in a ring of 24 platforms surrounding the structure known as the cornucopia. We are at the top of a large fortress. At each corner of the roof is a door leading to a stairwell, which leads inside the building. Everyone seems to know that the doors will not open until people start dying. "…11…10…9…"

On the way here, they told us that they have taken certain "precautions" due to the lack of "enthusiasm" from previous tributes. This year they have given us injections that will "raise your aggression" as they put it. One by one, starting with district 12 tributes, we will all go insane. "…7…6…5…"

My eyes drift around the circle, searching three faces in particular. I see Lauren, from 12, with her magnificent green eyes and straight blonde hair. As always, she looks calm, detached, and beautiful. In body, she seems as though she is one with the earth, but in her movements and expressions she seems wise and stoic beyond the years of this world or any other. I saw her smile once, and all of a sudden I had a glimpse of an energy and life like none I have seen before.

I see Kenny, from 7, with his shaggy brown hair and cautious grey eyes. He is full of energy, but it is a nervous, fearful energy. He needs to run, but he can't. He has run all his life, and now he must fight. But he still resents the very idea of death.

I see Irene, from 10, with her cloud of red hair and electric blue eyes. Like Kenny, she is full of energy, but it has no channel or direction. It bounces around with nowhere to go, and the helpless state of her being is damaging her psyche. She is only 11, and she is about to face death firsthand. "…3…2…1…0."

Chaos. Everyone is running. They have no real purpose, only to survive. They are animals, but they have control. They have no real desire to kill, but they lash out if anyone gets too close. Some run straight for supplies, others run to the doors in the futile hope that they can get inside before they add to the rising death toll. We are animals running to escape becoming a number.

I run to the outer edge, attempting to circumvent the tempestuous swarm of children. I find an angle where I can run straight through to the opposite door. I dash as fast as possible and am about halfway when a kid about as old as Irene jumps onto my leg. As I struggle to get away, she lashes out, not with any semblance of control, merely directing her entire being towards my own with the basic intent of causing me harm in any way possible. I finally break away, grab a pack at random, wrap the other hand around the hilt of the nearest weapon, and continue to run. The stones are wet with blood, and I find myself able to pass through the nearest doorway.

I run down the spiraling stairs, slipping several times and passing 3 doorways. On the fourth, I run through and enter a maze. I run as far as I can, taking every turn possible, until I run into a dead end. I do not remember the way back, and I am too tired to continue. I rest my back against the wall and search my pack.

It does not have much. The first item is a flashlight. This is a welcome reprieve from the dark of the maze, but must be used sparingly in case other tributes are nearby. The other two items in the bag are a thermos full of foul-smelling liquid and a tin of glop, presumably for eating. Now I turn my attention to the weapon. It is a sword with a long, slightly curved blade. Under the flashlight the steel appears silvery and sends shafts of light through the darkness around me. At the end of the hilt is a circular crosspiece with ornate symbols etched into the surface. It strikes me as ironic that so beautiful and elegant an object should be used for so foul a purpose.

As I turn off the flashlight, I am shocked at how much darker it was before I turned it on. I can see things that are directly around me, but other than that I am almost blind. The darkness tries to smother me, and I finally succumb to my exhaustion and fall into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

I dream about past events. First, I see Lauren on the day we met. We were in a training room, and she was over at an area where tributes could practice strategy and tactics. The second I saw her, I knew she was the most beautiful person I would ever see. But there was no way I could let her know that. So I just moved on to the next station.

Then I see Kenny. At one point he must have been very enthusiastic and optimistic, but I will never see that side of him. Not now, and certainly not after one or both of us dies in this arena. I do not actually know him at all. The only reason I even know his name is because I saw his ranking and interview along with everyone else's. But we have sparred. The day before I saw Lauren for the first time. There were padded swords lying on a mat in the training room. By some unspoken consent, we each picked one up and began to practice. No words were exchanged, only blows. He was fast. One second he was right in front of me, the next he was at my left with a padded blade poking into my sternum. He never smiled or even showed a hint of satisfaction, save a slight energy in his eyes. He approached every strike with a gaze so intense; it was almost like he was searching. And then a second later I realized he was finding, just before his blade would smack into my head

Finally, I dream of Irene. On the last day of training, I saw a little girl crying in the corner. Logic told me not to intervene, but compassion got the better of me, so I went over to comfort her. I did not need to ask why she was crying; I already knew. I just held her and tried my best to be comforting. I am not normally good at that kind of thing, but it seemed to help a bit. She looked up at me, her blue eyes ringed heavily with red. As with Kenny, nothing was said, but it did not matter. Her gratitude was conveyed perfectly by the look in her eyes, but attempting to describe it with words would be folly. We all left soon after, but in that short time we experienced something that a lifetime of words could not describe.

Amazingly, I wake up alive and unharmed. I had expected, even hoped that someone would slit my throat during the night. After a quick breakfast of slop and ooze, I strap on my pack and attempt to stab my sword through my pants so I do not have to hold it all the time. It looks ridiculous, and the steel is uncomfortably cold against my leg, but it works. Having done this, I wander even farther into the maze.

There is no time in the maze. All the corridors look the same; there is no distance. There is barely any light, save that which you bring with you; there is no day or night. Nothing natural lives in the maze, and the air is stale; there is no life, or even decay. With nothing to mark the passage of time, the occupants of the maze are thrown into a sort of moving stasis, which can only be broken by the appearance of a stairwell. The stairs cannot be searched for, and any attempt to actively find them will get you nowhere. The maze seems ancient, even though I know it cannot be more than a year old.

After what could have been any amount of time, I do reach the stairwell. I reach the top, and I see something that it takes me a few minutes to register. When I get out onto the roof, it is nighttime. The sky is dark, and layer upon layer of thick black clouds blots out the moon and stars. The roof is covered in bodies and blood. The only living person on the roof is Kenny. He stands over a body that is contorted and covered in blood. In his hands he holds a metal staff similarly adorned in scarlet.

The body he stands over is Lauren.

The sword is in my hand before I know what I am doing. I am about halfway to where Kenny is when I hear him speak for the first time. "She was from 12, Charles! There was nothing I could do!"

I do not hear him. In an instant or less I am at Kenny's flank with sword in hand. He raises his staff. I hammer blow after blow into it. Whether I intend to hit him or not, I do not know. The crimson heat of rage blocks out everything but the blood on his staff.

The slender blade I use was not made for hammer blows. Before I know what is happening, there is a flash of silver and sparks. Kenny falls to the ground. The detached upper quarter of my sword is embedded in his skull. He never even had time to scream.

Before I can even react, I hear footsteps on the stairwell behind me. I turn to see Irene, who looks through me. It is impossible for me to tell what she is looking at, but it is nothing I will ever be able to see. "Run."

It is the first time I have ever heard her speak. Her voice is high and clear, like a mountain stream. Now she is on her knees, covering her ears with her hands and screaming, "Run! Please run! Now, you need to get away!"

I have no idea how to react. I can barely even think. I just killed another person. Through the numbing shock, I can just hear Irene's screams turning wordless and animalistic. Suddenly she is up off the ground, bearing an unsheathed blade. Before I know what I am doing, I have leveled my broken sword. I feel Irene hit the blade, and at the same time there is a blinding that starts in my chest and spreads in waves throughout the rest of my body. My blade has pierced her heart; hers is lodged in my lungs. We both fall down to join the other bodies on the roof; Kenny, Lauren, the others. Irene's breath is quick, irregular and unnatural; then it stops. As I drown in my own blood, my last thought is of Lauren. Will I see her after I die?

That is the last hope I have left.


End file.
